As I return from Thanksgiving and my "opt outside" weekend, the recent election looms like an apocalyptic cloud. The attacks haven’t begun in earnest, but their shape is emerging, and it’s terrifying.
I’m reminded of the years I spent fighting mountaintop removal coal mining in West Virginia. Between 2008 and 2011, I saw how this extreme form of strip mining erased sharp Appalachian peaks, transformed landscapes, and tore apart communities. One visit stands out vividly: after an hour of hiking through forest, my brother and I turned a corner to find a mountain reduced to rubble, giant hauling trucks grinding it away, their scale so massive it took a moment to comprehend. How do you fight destruction on that scale?
One March, I was supporting two activists perched 80 feet up in trees slated for destruction. They were determined to stay for weeks, and the resupply team outwitted Massey Energy’s security guards daily. But then came the floodlights and the screeching sounds blasted on loop. When workers failed to pull the tree-sitters down with ladders, the company escalated, and after three grueling weeks, the activists were arrested. They delayed the blasting by just a few days.
In the face of such overwhelming odds, it felt like screaming into the void. But what stays with me most isn’t the courage of the activists who gathered there to throw their bodies into the path of destruction. It’s the resolve of the locals: people who stood up to neighbors working for the coal companies, who fought for the land holding their ancestors’ graves, or who simply wanted their cracked foundations to stop shaking from the dynamite. I learned from them the messaging that would sway local politicians. They saw opportunities that we, as outsiders, overlooked. I went there to fight for the climate, but the longer I worked there, the more I was working for these brilliant, courageous locals.
What we face in 2025 feels eerily similar. Trump’s White House is already signaling attacks on California’s ability to pass environmental laws, limit air pollution, manage water responsibly, and incentivize clean energy. The scale of the challenge is daunting—but my time in West Virginia reminds me that the only true path to victory is standing with those most impacted, learning from them and drawing strength from their resolve.
Planning for 2025: Honoring Tradition, Rising to the Challenge
December is usually a time for planning, but this year, it carries a deeper urgency. What threats will we face from the White House? Will we see an influx of support as more people awaken to the depth of the crisis? These are the questions guiding our chapter staff retreat today, our committee planning meetings tomorrow, and our January Executive Committee gathering. These rituals—rooted in the traditions of Sierra Club’s 130+ years—are how we align our actions with our mission and prepare to rise to the challenges ahead.
We know this work cannot be done alone. Just as I learned from the resilience of West Virginia’s coalfield communities, we must lean on the strength of our own: the activists, donors, and allies across southern Californaia who have always been the heart of this movement. Together, we will organize, strategize, and build power to protect all that we can.
Looking Ahead
This holiday season, I hope you find time for gratitude, rest, and reflection. On these long nights, dream of a future shaped by the lessons of the past but unbound by its limits. Because next year, we have work to do. And as we face the storms ahead, we’ll do so rooted in solidarity, drawing strength from the resolve of those who have always stood on the front lines of the fight for justice and a livable future.
Morgan Goodwin is the Angeles Chapter Director. He has been a full time climate activist for over 15 years.